


The Pirate and His Treasure

by tshreyu



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 06:09:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12126228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tshreyu/pseuds/tshreyu
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft find a way to live their lives together, until even death didn’t “do them part”.





	The Pirate and His Treasure

**Author's Note:**

> Amazing drawings by the talented Tikatikox for my story. 
> 
> https://68.media.tumblr.com/9b2a7c17bc1ffa49797557433617ec82/tumblr_owtiqvF2jg1tq4tf9o2_500.jpg
> 
> https://68.media.tumblr.com/cb650b5795d0fa942a207081809ff356/tumblr_owtiqvF2jg1tq4tf9o1_540.jpg

**Tuesday: Cottage House**

**6:52 AM**

Sherlock Holmes rushed to the cottage as fast as his 72-year old legs would take him, a glistening jar of golden nectar in his hand. He pushed opened the patio door and called out for Mycroft Holmes, his husband of nearly 30 years now,  “Look Mycie! I have got your favorite. A fresh jar of pure orange blossom honey! Oh! You are going to love this. What do you want it on? Should I make some pancakes or would you like brown bread toast?”

Sherlock placed the jar on the kitchen counter as he excitedly bounced around the small house. He had maintained his muscular structure almost entirely with only a small ponch on the stomach. He still had bouncy hair, although it was slightly thinner and completely grey. His beautiful face and cheek bones were now marred with wrinkles that symbolized the long, adventurous and brave life he had lived with his brother, who was also the only love of his life.

Post-Sherrinford, the two brothers had decided that nothing was more important to them than each other and maintaining their incestuous love. Mycroft had said that it was best to maintain as little contact as necessary with their sister, lest she should deduce their sexual relationship. A few years later, Mycroft had decided to voluntarily retire from his job as the British government and had asked Sherlock if he was willing to lead a peaceful life in the countryside together. Sherlock for his part had wanted nothing else than to live with his brother as a real couple and so the two brothers had moved to the small cottage in the countryside, where their neighbors knew them as lovers. Sherlock had taken to keeping bees and Mycroft had decided to publish online analytical articles in politics under a pseudo name. Life was peaceful and then the elder Holmes had asked Sherlock to marry him. It was like a dream come true for the ex-consulting detective when Mycroft had pulled some strings to get them an official marriage license. The two brothers also had a small ceremony, which was attended by Mrs. Hudson, DI Lestrade, John and Rosie Watson as well as Molly Hooper. These people were the only ones who knew that the two Holmes were not only brothers but also lovers.

Now Sherlock Holmes was moving around the kitchen as he rambled on, “Oh, don’t tell me Mycie! You always go for the toast, I don’t know why I even ask! Let me get the toaster started and I will join you soon Mycie. Don’t you worry, I will be with you before you know it!”

Over the years, Sherlock Holmes had witnessed the death of Mrs. Hudson and just a couple of years back, John Watson. Rosie Watson, also the god-daughter of Sherlock Holmes, had followed her father’s footsteps and was now working as an anesthetist at Bart’s. Amazingly, Gregory Lestrade was still living strong, pushing 90s.

Sherlock placed the two slices of perfectly toasted bread on a plate and unscrewed the jar of honey. “Hmm, can you smell that Mycie? Oh I know you can. An extra spoon for you today. There you go!” Sherlock picked up honey laden toast and bit into it. He closed his eyes in utter pleasure as the sweet taste of the honey hit him and the aroma of orange blossom bombarded his senses. Pure bliss.

 

**Friday: St Bartholomew's Hospital**

**7:38 PM**

Rosie Watson sat in her office, looking over the schedule for next week. She sipped her large black coffee and let the warmth wash over her. It was her only guilty pleasure. She was just marking off a certain appointment, when her phone rang. She never looked at the caller ID since as a Doctor she received tons of calls from unknown numbers.

A strong male voice at the other end spoke clearly to her, “Is this Dr. Rosamund Mary Watson?”      

“Speaking.”

“Ms. Watson, I’m calling from the NSY. We have a lawyer here with us. But before I tell you anything on the matter, can you tell me what is your relationship with Mr. Sherlock Holmes?”

“Uncle Lockie? He is my god-father. What is all this about?” Rosie asked, trying not to betray her panic as she had been aware of the delicate situation that the two Holmes brothers were in ever since she was old enough to understand.

“Ms. Watson, can you describe your relationship with Mycroft Holmes?”

“Me and uncle Mycie were not very close but we had a normal relationship. Look, I am not going to say anything else without knowing what this is about.”

“Maybe you are right. It would be best if we meet. Is it possible for you to come down to the station today?”

“I’m on my way right now,” Rosie said as she grabbed her car keys. Her heart was thrumming loudly. This was the sort of call she was afraid of getting ever since she realized that he two uncles were not just husbands but also brothers. As the years passed, she had begun to relax. It was a surprise something like this would be investigated now, after 30 years.

Rosie was met by a tall bulky guy with black floppy hair when she gave her name at the station.

“Ms. Watson, I am DI Mckenzie. Please, let’s go into my office so we can talk privately.”  Inside the said office, there was another man, poshly dressed with crisp cream shirt, blue tie and dark navy jacket. Rosie immediately understood that this must be the lawyer that the inspector had mentioned.

“Hello Ms.Watson. I am Kevin Black. I have been a lawyer to Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes for more than eight years now.”

Once the introductions were taken care of and everyone settled down, Rosie asked for an explanation. The DI cleared his throat and began, “You see Ms. Watson, you have been named the sole beneficiary in Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes’ will.”

Of all the scenarios that Rosie was prepared to hear, this was the last thing she had expected. “What? This is not making any sense? Where is Uncle Lockie? What happened?”

“Ms. Watson..”

“Rosie, please.”

“Ok. Rosie, this may shock you a bit, but Sherlock Holmes was found dead this morning at the cottage he shared with Mycroft Holmes.”

Rosie felt like someone had stabbed her in the chest. The pain and shock she felt left her breathless. It was like everything around her had gone still, even then time. When she came back to reality, she was holding a cold glass of water and her face was wet with tears. She gulped down the water, which helped her calm down slightly and she asked the only question she could think of at that moment.

“Uncle Mycie? What happened, where is he?”

“Rosie, I know this is not the best time but we need your help to figure out some things, okay?” The DI said softly. Rosie could only nod.

“Thank you. Please tell me, when was the last time you met the Holmeses?”

Rosie swallowed, “I visited them about four months back. Uncle Mycie was not keeping very well and although he was moving about I think all of us knew it was only a matter of time before his health gave way.”

“Did you talk to either of them since then?”

“Uncle Lockie called about ten days back. He told me how proud I had made everyone including my father and told me how much he loved me. He also told me that whatever happened, everything would be okay eventually. I didn’t understand why he was saying all these things and just thought it was the old age talking.”

The inspector and the DI shared a look then. “Did Sherlock Holmes say anything about Mycroft during the phone call?”

“Not specifically, no. I asked after Uncle Mycie and now thinking back it seemed that Uncle Lockie brushed me off. Just said, everything was okay or something like that.” At this, the two men shared another odd look and Rosie just snapped. She stood up abruptly and banged her hands on the desk. Looking straight at the inspector she shouted, “What the bloody hell happened? Just tell me right now!”

“Ms. Watson, please calm down. You might want to take a seat. Please.” When Rosie had settled down again, the inspector told her, “ Ms. Evana Sherrin of Herbs&Condiments had gone to the Holmes Farms this morning to pick up a batch of honey, like she does every Friday. When she didn’t find her package sealed and labeled like always on the patio chair, she approached the cottage and was surprised by a foul smell. She entered the house and found Sherlock Holmes dead on the couch. It is believed that Mr. Holmes passed away Tuesday morning due to cardiac arrest. He was supposedly having breakfast as we found broken china plate and half eaten toast and honey on the floor.”

“No no no no..this can’t be! Uncle Mycie was in bad shape, he was ill. Wait a minute. Did you say, Tuesday? Where was Uncle Mycie then? He was in no shape to go out of town! What happened?”

This was when Mr. Mckenzie bent over and held Rosie’s hand in his. He knew this was a tad bit unprofessional but the lady in front of him was distressed and there was more to come.       

 “Rosie, look you must be strong here, okay? Sometimes old age makes people do things that they would never even imagine doing. I can see that you were very close to your uncles. But this is an unusual and difficult situation. You must keep a level head and stay calm, okay.” Rosie nodded and the DI leaned back, before continuing.

“You see, when Ms. Sherrin called the paramedics, they declared Mr. Holmes dead immediately. He had been dead for at least three days. But something felt odd so the paramedics reported it here. When the NSY got to the house, they too agrred that something was definitely fishy. For one the entire house smelled of chemicals and the bedroom was set at below 0 degrees. It was frosty in the bedroom. Also, according to all reports, the cottage was inhibited by two men, a married couple, but the other man was missing. When we searched the apartment, we found a freezer in the bedroom and the body of one Mycroft Holmes inside.”

Rosie gasped and started crying although her throat closed up and no sound came out. She started gasping for air and was handed a paper bag immediately by Mr. Black. The lawyer patted her back until she had calmed down once again.

“Rosie, can you describe the relationship between the two Holmeses?”

“What? No no, whatever you are implying you are wrong. They could never harm each other. Uncle Lockie and Mycie were very much in love with each other all their lives. They were dependent on each other like I have never seen any other couple. They were obsessed. I wish every day that someday I find a love like that. They were incapable of hurting each other.”

“Thank you Ms. Watson. I was not implying anything. Also, everyone we have interviewed, the neighbors, the work associates, gave us similar description of their relationship. Besides, our medical team found no signs of foul play at all. It was concluded that Mycroft Holmes suffered a heart attack about two and a half month back. There were also signs that someone tried to resuscitate him but failed. His body was impeccably preserved and also cleaned every day like a shrine. We believe this is a case of a spouse unwilling to let go of his beloved. “

As she heard the inspector, Rosie could picture her uncle Lockie devastated at the passing away of his husband. She could picture him cleaning Mycie lovingly and talking to him like nothing odd had happened. She could see him sleeping in the chilly bedroom next to the freezer, burying himself in piles of blankets because he could not fathom letting his love lay there all alone. Tears were streaming down her face as she imagined the loneliness that Sherlock must have felt. She started sobbing loudly and fell off the chair in a crumpled heap, guilt eating at her for not sensing something wrong earlier. She regretted not visiting her uncles more often, to call them more often. She felt arms holding her but didn’t sense anything else as she drowned in her grief.

 

**Two Weeks Later:**

Rosie held onto Gregory Lestrade’s hand as she watched the two tombstones laid side-by-side. The funeral had gone smoothly and was attended by a handful of people who knew the Holmes couple through work or community. Rosie, Molly and Greg were the only ones left who actually knew the two geniuses. It was decided to not put names on the stones, lest someone researching about the Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes makes the connection. And thus, Sherlock’s stone was marked with ‘The Pirate’ and Mycroft’s marked with ‘The Pirate’s Treasure’.


End file.
